Thursday, April 19, 2012

Sorting Stuff- Lagarde

Leaving a boat to fend for itself in temperatures that reach minus twenty is always a little disconcerting. This is particularly so when one lives on the other side of the world although, there is little point in being concerned through all the inclement times so usually we are not, preferring to discover any damage after the event.

There is also little point in dwelling on the work that must be undertaken for the first day or two aboard, like removing winter covers, or describing how my numbed fingers fumbled while untying the covers so that I found myself separated from my beloved Leatherman.

It was less than three metres away, and I suppose the water may have been a degree or two warmer than the air, but I prefer sadness to bathing in yesterday's breakfast, so there it shall remain and sad shall I be.

There's no point at all in describing scrubbing the soot from the winter fires from the decks, unpacking all the things we so carefully packed to keep them free of the dreaded winter condensation. Err… sorting out the one bag of linen which for some inexplicable reason managed to fill with water at some time in the thaw.

Neither is there any point in photographing the untidiness. The view from the window is part of the reason we are here after all, and with it just an upward glance away, the work of sorting is relatively pleasant with the heater ticking over in the background.

No comments

we deliver - Subscribe now

Fading memories

Douglas Adams observed quite rightly that dishwashers wash tedious dishes for you, thus saving you the bother of washing them yourself, and video recorders watch tedious television for you, thus saving you the bother of looking at it yourself.

Had he still been among us, and for some inexplicable reason stumbled upon these pages he may quite rightly have observed that this blog is simply here to remember things for us, thereby saving us that particular bother and allowing us to get on with the next bit of our lives without distraction, our adventures safely tucked away for a time when we may well need to recall them.